The Love of Hatred
by Alexander Butters
Summary: This is sort of starting where the anime left off. Maybe two or so months after. Muraki's plan starts with Hisoka and ends with Tsuzuki. Rated M because its really violent- has no sexual content.  Please Review with your thoughts and concerns.
1. Chapter 1

11/26/10

...

School is in for the local high-schoolers. And a certain Shinigami has taken the role as the protector of a certain student; a girl who was able to see the spirits of the dead, and thus has become target of the demons who eat them.

The protector- this Shinigami- goes by the name of Hisoka Kurosaki. Usually he works along-side his partner, Tsuzuki, but he is in the high-school's doctor's office, acting as the substitute, when really he is keeping watch for dark invaders from Hell.

Hisoka sits at a desk beside the girl, both ignoring eachother completely, watching the teacher talk in her monotone voice about scientific notations.

Behind them, quiet, unmoving, a man watches the Shinigami, knowing exactly what he is: Hisoka isn't human; he died by his own hands. He is cursed, able to feel the emotions of those around him- even more-so when one touches his soft, warm flesh...

HIsoka can feel the other man's gaze on him as intense as a flame made of ice: Cold, yet refusing to die down no matter how hard one tries to snuff it out. At first, he tries to ignore the other man- yet the longer the gaze remains locked onto him, the more he begins to sweat.

His hands shaking, Hisoka curls his fists tightly and slamed them against the desk, turning with wide eyes towards the one who taunts him.

Smiling a small, calm smile, the other man sat cross-legged on a table, one hand propped against his face.

The details of this man is this: His left eye is silver, his right eye is purple and mechanical. The right-side of his half is half-cencealed by his platium-blonde hair. The glasses he usually wears are folded neatly into the pocket of his white suit.

He is known as Muraki Kazutaka. A doctor and a sorcerer with hidden intentions.

His eyes flicker into the Shinigami's; silver and purple blazing into the frightened, shimmering green ones.

Hisoka cannot look away from the doctor's eyes; shaking internally, his mind is filled with images of the night he was raped, cursed, and murdered: His mouth hangs open in horror, making soft, pathetic sounds of trauma.

The human girl glances at Hisoka, follows his gaze, and sees the doctor. Her breath is momentarily taken away; _he is very handsome!_ she thinks. Angellic, even. She notices that Hisoka is upset, so she taps him on the shoulder, and he cries out loudly, falling out onto the floor.

"Mister Kurosaki!" snaps the teacher. "Behave yourself or I will dismiss you to detention!"

On the floor, Hisoka hugs his head, his eyes large as flashes of his memory torment him.

_ A knife raises over his limp body- it falls - over and over- his body squirms under the pain of the blade. He opens his mouth and-_

-screams, loudly, drawing the attention of the entire class. Some children giggle, thinking its all a joke; as soon as he screams, the images fade and so does the pain-stimulation. He sits up, looking sheepish and unharmed.

"That's it!" says the teacher loudly. Looking over the students, the teacher notices the substitute teacher in the back and says, "Mr. Kazutaka, please escort Mister Kurozaki out of the classroom."

"I'll be happy to." comes Muraki's smooth reply. He stands, walks over to the boy, and takes his hand, pulling the hesitant boy to his feet.

The children watch with near-drooling expressions, leaning forward or twisting around in their seats to watch.

"Thankyou." says the teacher bluntly.

"No...please..." whispers Hisoka, his mind still on the past. He leans into the sorcerer, grasping his clothes to steady himself. But because of this, he can see and feel more darkness than ever; he sees himself dying, screaming, suffering from a curse that has no cure...

Muraki rests a hand around the boy's shoulders and hurries out of the room. He leads him to the back door, the red exit sign glowing as if to signal the dead from the underworld.

Wordless, the doctor pushes open the door, into the bright light of the sightless sun.

"You don't know for how long I have waited for this..." Muraki says quietly as he drags the boy to the backseat. He opens the door quickly, then guides the boy inside. He lays him down across the leather seats,saying, "By the time I am done with you, the one I love will come running to me like he has never run before." He then reaches a gesturing hand towards the boy's face.

With a gentle sweap of his hand, Muraki touches Hisoka's forhead, and the boy is put to sleep.

...

Meanwhile, boredly organizing files and straightening the pencils in perfect lines, Tsuzuki waits for the class-bell to ring- for the students to head home, and for Hisoka to give his report on the girl.

The details of Tsuzuki- who is also a Shinigami- is this: His hair is medium brown, like warm caramal that has been set out to dry on wax-paper; his eyes are purple like the petals of a crocus flower. His only blemish is the scars of his left wrist, which are hidden by a wrist-watch.

Tsuzuki looks up at the clock on the wall, then sighs. The class his partner is in doesn't end for another hour.

Thinking of Hisoka, a steady sense of calm washes over him, relaxing his body. He yawns, rubs his eyes, then rests his head against the countertop of the doctor's office, feeling sleepy.

"I'll wake up when the bell rings," he says to himself, smiling lazily. "Then-" he yawns once more, loudly. "Then we can all go get some lunch...Maybe sushi, or ..." but now he has fallen alseep, the effects of Muraki's spell so strong that merely thinking of Hisoka will cause one to fall into a more mild sleep.

His body limp, he slumps to the floor, and lays sprawled out like the victim of deadly poison, a string of drool lacing from the counter to the floor.

A smile twitches on his face as Tsuzuki dreams of fishsticks, not once considering that his Shinigami partner may be in danger of his very life.

...


	2. Chapter 2

...

Opening his eyes, Hisoka finds himself gazing up at a white ceiling- no- he squints his eyes, noticing dark patches of brown... Hisoka gasps loudly as he realizes that the stains are of blood- moving iamges blaze across his eyes, of woman after woman being slaughtered in such unthinkable, experimenting ways that their body parts wind up clinging to the ceiling.

Hisoka closes his eyes tightly, pain cutting into his soul. The images stop immediately, and he opens his eyes in shock.

Slowly, his senses return to normal, and he is able focus on where he is. The sunk-in pressure on his body proves he is laying on a bed, while the light in the room proves he is in a bedroom; the light glows warmly on the objects; a nightstand, a chair near a window, a large mirror ontop of a dresser, a possible closet door, and the main door itself, all assumed by the shadows on the walls.

Wondering why he cant move his arms or legs, he thrashes, twisting his head around. He sees the chains latched from his ankles and wrists to either ends of the bed-posts; giving one more tug, he gives up.

_How did I get here...? _Hisoka thinks, staring up at the patches of murdered women. As sudden as a kick in the mouth, Hisoka remembers; he remembers falling out of his chair in class, being held against Muraki's chest, stuffed into the car-

Hisoka's eyes contact, and his body is sent spiralling into hot flashes.

_Better me than him,_ he tells himself quickly. _Better he have his way with me then ... then Tsuzuki..._

But a deep anquish washes over him, wondering how Muraki will torment him this time, how gravely he will suffer until his dying breath...

Thinking back, he remembers being in pain every time he wakes up with Muraki- his body burning, his blood running out in red streams over his naked body- so why was he in a bed, merely held back with chains, and not the unbreakable silver hairs of a woman?

_He's planning something_... Hisoka thinks wildly. _Something sinister to alarm Tsuzuki into coming to save me... he always saves me... But..._His eyes close as guilty tears burn in his eyes.

_I understand now... the day he wanted to die because he was feeling so much grief... He didn't believe he was worth saving... But am I? _

His eyes open in a jerk on hearing the bedroom door open.

A voice enters the room, smoother than warm butter; "Sleep well, boy?"

"Muraki...!" the Shinigami says hatefully. Silent, the doctor approaches the bed, and Hisoka shrinks back, tugging vainly on the chains, his breathing already heavy with anxioty.

"Yes... You know me well, don't you?" Muraki says quietly, touching the glasses on his face. He removes them slowly, folds them, then places them on the nightstand. "But I dont want you saying my name...I want _him_."

"I'm not giving in!" shouts Hisoka. "You're never going to get what you want!"

"Is that a challange?" asks Muraki. He moves closer to the bed and sits down on the edge, resting a hand inches from the boy's right hand, which trembles in its cuff.

Staring ahead at the wall, Muraki says, "You really are an usightly doll; in no way are you beautiful in my eyes. As thus, I am willing to mutalate you until you are no longer recognizable. I hold hatred in my heart for you because you have stolen the one I love from me."

Hisoka, staring, blinks, his lungs swelling painfully as he sucks in too much air, his heart racing so recklessly he distantly thinks he's having a panic attack. _Is this his idea of confessing?_ the Shinigami thinks. _Why is he talking like this? He have has before...not to me... He hates me, but why is he telling me?_

"What ever you're up to, it's not going to work." states the boy stubbornly. "Tsuzuki will never love you anyway. You're a sin against nature!"

The weigh on the bed shifts; a pale hand reaches and touches Hisoka's face as Muraki leans close to the boy, his right hand on the other side of the boy so he is half-hanging over him.

Hisoka gasps.

"Shhh..." says the sorcerer. "Dolls are not supposed to be able to speak."

In his mind's eyes, Hisoka sees himself limbless and bleeding heavily from dozens of gruesome holes in his body, his body tacked to a wall by a massive nail in his chest, his heart weging deeper into the nail with every beat. He feels an intense mix of pleasure and sorrow that Muraki will feel while cutting away his parts; he can feel Muraki's heated lust right now as he touches his face.

A wave of nausea slashes into his boy, and Hisoka lets out a silent scream, and violently shakes his head, removing Muraki's hand- along with the feelings. His mouth gaped open, he tries to yell and shout, but only weak squeals leak from his throat.

Muraki moves closer so he can hear the boy, a small, sympathetic smile on his face. "What was that-"

"Get away from me!" Hisoka bellows at last, his body spasming with a fearful mind of its own.

Leaning away, the doctor's smile vanishes, replaced with a disliking scowl. He returns to his sitting position, neither touching or looking at his prisoner.

"Pray for me, Hisoka." says the older man softly. "Pray that Tsuzuki will come save you before its too late." He stands up to leave, putting his glasses back on his face. With a sad smile, he looks at the Shinigami. "I want to feel his kind spirit break and slowly die when he sees what I am going to do to you."

"You bastard!" shrieks Hisoka, trying to break free once more.

Ignoring the boy, Muraki goes to the door to leave. But he stops, as if wounded. One hand on the door, he stares down at the knob and says, "Try to get some sleep. I want you to be awake and see every mark I make on your body."

Hisoka gnashes his teeth and starts to shout something, but stops, a powerful emotion glazing over him. He feels sadness. From... Tsuzuki? No... Tsuzuki's spirit is quiet; he must be sleeping...

This sadness...it's the kind of emotion one feels when they lose a love one, or when a daughter has to live with her mother or her father. It's the painful choice between loving someone or letting them go. It's a sadness that will never go away...

_But why does Muraki feel this way? _Hisoka thinks. He pictures the day he found Tsuzuki trying to die by the Flaming Serpant. _Did something happen between Tsuzuki and Muraki- something that upset the evil sorcerer so deeply?_

His green eyes darting, Hisoka watches Muraki leave, taking his sadness with him.

Alone in the bedroom, Hisoka takes the doctor's advice and tries to sleep, not wanting to think of what lays ahead.

...


	3. Chapter 3

...

The rule was: If you knock twice and don't get an answer, try again but knock even harder.

Standing outside the nurse's office, the teenager adjusted the toilet paper over his nose and knocked with his foot- kicking the door abruptly.

With a yelp, Tsuzuki sits up and wacks his head against an open drawer. Laying back down on the floor, he groans, rubbing the pain out of his freshly made knot. "Oww," he mumbles. "That really hurt..."

"Miss Burse?" calls a nasally boy loudly on the other side of the door, too polite to open the door without getting an answer first, but rude enough to yell.

"Crap!" standing back up, the Shinigami rushes to the door and opens it, saying, "Sorry, I fell als- oh my God!"

The boy recoils, cringing, one hand pressing the napkin tighter against his nose. "What?" he cries. "Ish- ish it dat bad?"

Looking down at his watch, Tsuzuki notices that the class he was waiting for to end ended an hour and thirty minutes ago. "Awww, Hisoka will be mad at me for not taking my shift sooner...I guess we'll be eating a late lunch..."

The boy blinks sheepishly, plugging his nose. "Mis'ber...my m'ose...?"

Blinking more sheepishly back, Tsuzuki lowers his hand and looks at the boy. He merely repeates the question: "Yo-your nose...?"

"I'm bmeeeding!" he says loudly, the same time as the blood-flow quickens, squirting up into the air.

"Oh, I see!" says the unpracticed "nurse" cheerfully. "Well come on inside- I think I have a bandaid in one of my drawers..."

The boy follows Tsuzuki inside, saying something that could only be translated as, "What the hell do I need a bandaid for?"

But the Shinigami laughs and closes the door behind him, saying, "It wont take long, I promise!" He tells the boy to sit on the chair while he looks for the bandaid, opening every drawer and cabinet, even digging through the trash can.

All the while, the boy keeps messing with his bloody wad of toilet paper, streaks of red getting all over his face and hands, leaving thick blotches on his shirt. "I d'ink I m'eed a towel-" the boy says urgently.

"Almost found it, almost found it!" Tsuzuki says with a smile, over-turning a box of needles and syringes into the floor. "Oops..."

...

_The one I love was willing to die with me... A demon and a moster with the blood of a demon, both unique, yet sharing the same fate..._ Muraki's eyes close, the glow of the sun vanishing under the blackness of his eye-lids.

He passes a hand across his face, brushing his hair out of his face. Silent, he listens for a sound within the dark house, but none is heard.

This house in which he stands in belonged to an old lady until the day she died; at that time, Muraki helped the dead woman's children collect and move the heirloomes from house-to-truck, with only a few chairs, a mirror, a tall dresser, a broken lamp, a nightstand, and a bed as what none of the family members wanted.

To Muraki's pleasant surprise, the family had refused the house, not wanting to live with the "damn old hag's ghost nagging the to death about getting their chores done."

So the sorcerer, with his charm, kindly told them he would buy the house himself, and sell it. And whatever extra he earned would go to the homeless. Pleased with the man's offer, the oldest child gave him the deed, and he wiped their memory the moment they unloaded their heirloomes into their own homes.

Legally owning the house, Muraki threw out the broken lamp and moved all of the rest of the furniture into the bedroom, where he planned to hold and destory a certain green-eyed doll.

Thinking of him now, he opens his eyes, turning on his heels towards the empty hallway. He begins to walk, his hands working warmth into his palms as he secures his soft white gloves.

_You will be mine by the week end_, _Mr. Tsuzuki, _he thinks. _You will be broken with sorrow and love, but never hate. You are of the purest nature..._

He smiles slightly, picturing the purple-eyed Shinigami screaming, tears sparkling in his eyes, his soul in the darkest of agony when he sees the girl he promised to save die before his very eyes- her pleading, but all he has been able to do is watch...

_Yes..._ At the end of the hall now, he touches the knob of the door- the bedroom door which holds_ his _partner..._ He will be broken is so many pieces that only I can savage and put to use. _

The knob is cool under his glove; it sparks a cold chill up his spine, making his heart race in excitement. Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to calm his heart before opening the door.

...

For once in the longest of time, Hisoka is not having a nightmare.

~ In his dream, he is an open field, holding a map. He looks down at it with curiosity, frowning in thought. Thunder sounds behind him, and he turns towards it, but sees only a fierce, blinding light. Out of the light walks a man dressed in white, yet even though he recognizes him as Muraki, in his dream he isn't afraid; Hisoka sees the man only as a doctor, and so he walks towards him.

~ Muraki stops walking and raises a hand towards him, and blood falls out of his hand like a waterfal, increasing in flow the longer it pours out from his woundless hand. Hisoka starts running towards the doctor, but Muraki vanishes and is replaced by Tsuzuki, who runs towards him even faster than humanly possible. They embrace tightly.

~ "My heart is your heart," whispers Tsuzuki in Hisoka's ear. But Hisoka doesnt answer; he cries loudly with no real reason to do so, pressing himself tightly into his partner's chest. ~

A moment later, he wakes up.

His eyes heavy, Hisoka feels a sticky dryness on his face from crying, but he cannot remember why; he remembers nothing about his dream, aside form Tsuzuki being in it. This causes Hisoka to whimper slightly, his chest burning. He turns his head towards the wall, straining to look out the window.

"Tsuzuki..." he says absently-mindedly.

The door opens, and Hisoka looks over, startled, and his nerve is set on-edge as he watches in quiet dismay as the doctor waltzes into the room, his face serious.

"What do you plan to do to me?" snarls Hisoka angrily.

"Quiet." says Muraki shortly. "You are not allowed to speak to me." He opens the top drawer of the dresser, removes a large knife, gathers several viles into his fingers, then closes the drawer back.

Hisoka struggles against his chains, feeling Muraki's rush of excitement and lust filling his brain with dark images. "You bastard!" Hisoka shouts for the second time that day.

The pale-skinned man removes a syringe from his pocket and puncures a vile, letting the liquid join with the deadly thin needle. He turns to the victim on the bed and injects him wordlessly into his neck, ignoring the boy's cries of alarm.

"Say my name." says Muraki, eyes narrowing, removing the empty syringe.

Hisoka, his vision blurring, cannot find the words to say. His mind goes blank, and his hands begin to shake uncontrolably. A deep, cold sickness rolls inside his stomach, and he feels his bladder give way. But he isnt embarressed; he feels confused beyond reason. His mouth goes slack and dry- his eyes wont stay open.

"Say my name!" Muraki says, louder, drawing his attention.

Hisoka's eyes flicker, meeting the doctor's, and he obeys, saying the only name he can think of: "Tsuzuki..." he mumbles weakly.

The doctor takes out another syringe and fills it. Once done, he places it on the nightstand.

The last thing Hisoka sees before slipping into darkness, is Muraki losening the tie from around his neck.

...

His purple eyes bright, he waves a goodbye to the boy with a bloody nose, sending him off with a large Hello-Kitty bandaid plastered to the bridge of his throbbing nose.

Pleased with himself, the Shinigami turns back to the office, sees the massive mess he created, then leaves, stepping out carefully before closing the door, feeling guilty.

"Mr. Asato?"

Flinching Tsuzuki whirls around to see a tall, attractive nurse smiling at him.

"Hai!" he says.

"Your shift is over- you can go home now." says the woman.

"It is..?" Tsuzuki looks down at his watch, then nearly screams in horror: He was supposed to be off two hours ago! Groaning inwardl,y he keeps the smile on for show and thanks the lady before taking off down the hall.

Once out doors, he removes his "look, I'm a nurse!" glasses and takes out his cell phone. He dials Hisoka's number and waits, thinking, _Damn it, he's going to chew my head off for this!_

Running down the sidewalk, he pictures Hisoka glaring at a black tv-screen, refusing to talk to him.

_Maybe Watari or Tatsumi picked him up some food_, Tsuzuki thinks quickly_. I'm sure he's fine. He's probably worried about me..._

In his hand, the phone begins to ring. He places it to his ear and waits for his partner to pick up, planning a winning apology speech in his head as he runs towards the hotel they had rented during their stay on earth.

Riiiiing!

_Damn it, pick up, Hisoka! Please don't stay mad at me!_

Riiiiing!

And then he's counting the rings: Counting 1, 2-

Riiiiiiing!

-3...

...

Muraki gingerly plucks the phone out of the drugged boy's front pocket, turning it over in his hands like a foreign object. He reads the caller ID: Tsuzuki.

A terrible, longing urge to answer fills him- longing to hear his voice, to hear the disbelief in his screams when he tells him what he will do to his partner.

"Tz-..." his voice catches in his throat, feeling emotional. "Tsuzuki..." he says. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath. He recalls the day he gave the Shinigami a special tour of his collections and interests- how he stared off into the distance, saying Hisoka's name. Muraki's face twitches. Then smiles. "You're going to have to wait- just a little longer." With that, he tosses the ringing phone into a drawer, and returns to the doll on the bed, waiting to be undressed.

The doctor himself stands over the bed, his tie neatly folded across a chair. (That tie was expensive, after all- hate to ruin it with blood stains.)

His fingers graceful, he takes the knife off of the nightstand and uses it to cut off the boy's clothes, pulling them out from under his limp, flexible body.

HIsoka's shoes are removed one by one as carefully as removing them from a corpse. The sorcerer tosses them in the pile of clothes scraps before returning his attention to the boy's nudity.

"Making the first cut," he says aloud. Using the knife, he carves a long line down the boy's chest, and he bleeds.

Slightly disapointed, he sets the edge of the knife aand brings it sideways gainst the boy's chest, sliding it downwards, raising the skin in a very, very thin layer, cutting all the way to his lower pubic hairs.

Muraki gives the losened skin a gentle tug, then pulls it off like a blanket, saying quietly, "Removing the skin for the disease." He places a hand on the now-sensative area, and the doll twitches. Muraki takes out a new vile, different from the others, and pours it on the wound.

...


	4. Chapter 4

...

Hisoka's eyes snap open, a scream sounding in tremendous force before his eyes even focussed. Wretching in pain, he tugs against the chains and the bed posts, holloring as the liquid visably eats at his chest, raising and bubbling the skin with thick, red bumps.

At once, with a half-jump motion to get on, Muraki straddles the bed, his knees folded on either side of the boy, and quickly leans forward, one hand cupping the doll's head and bringing it hard against his mouth. The doctor kisses him deeply, tasting Hisoka's heated breath, knowing this connection of their bodies will fuel whatever the boy is feeling into an overwhelming hatred.

His eyes burning with tears, Hisoka's physical pain weakens, having no comparison to what he is feeling from the sorcerer's tongue; anger towards him and all who stand in his way; hatred towards Saki for not getting his revenge; a deep, passion for Tsuzuki that is almost love, yet has too many flaws- so much so, that is could the purist, most satantic of hatred he has ever felt for a living being. But with this emotions were pain and sadness- a pain that consumes Hisoka's mind and splinters his skull.

_He's doing this to me on purprose... he gains satisfaction from seeing people suffer! That monster...! _Hisoka squeazes his eyes shut, tears pouring out. _I cant cry out...I cant give him what he wants! _

The doctor releases the boy then climbs off of the bed, dusting himself lightly as if he might have leaves clinging to his shirt.

On the bed, Hisoka pants heavily, watching with strained eyes as the liquid dies down, leaving vivid red scars on his skin.

"I had once thought you were beautiful," says Muraki, in a conversational tone. "But now..." he takes up a long kinfe. "I think you are disgusting, and should be threated as such." Laughing quietly, he adds, "You will be my present for Mr. Tsuzuki when he arrives this evening."

Hisoka's cursed body glows beautifully in all its patterns- a deep, raspberry color. Inside his head, he feels a heedy desire burning within the other man; a vivid hatred that- if emotion could be painted- would shine a powerful, glossy grey.

"I must destory him..." Muraki thinks, yet Hisoka can hear his thoughts so clearly, the previous touch hightening every single nerve in his body. "He shall never get in my way again." thinks the doctor. "I've come too far... Come so close to losing everything- to losing... _him_..."

The Shinigami gasps in anguish, his own emotions mixed with Muraki's making a terribly painful fever swim through his veins.

Smiling to himself, the doctor looks at the boy and says, "Shall we begin the disection?"

"Why do you feel so much hatred!" cries Hisoka, stalling. "Why are you so dark?"

"Saki..." replies Muraki, feeling no need to hold back a confession to someone who will die within the next hour. "It is because of him that I live. Because of him that my life has meaning... And if killing the innocent gets me what I need, then I will slaughter the entire world to get _his_ attention."

"He wont let you hurt him again!"

Muraki fiddles with the knife, touching the blade lightly, watching the reflection of the boy's curse flicker in the steel. "He has no choice in the matter- seeing you is all it will take to bring him to his knees once more."

"Muraki!" shrieks Hisoka. And blood starts running down his nose from the pressure in his head. He snorts softly, but the blood quickens.

Muraki places a hand on the side of the bed, leans over, and gives the boy a dark, cold smile. The doll shrinks back, but the doctor moves closer; he sticks out his tongue and begins to run it under the bleeding nose, tasting.

Hisoka shivers, his eyes too wide- too traumatic- to close. A black horror eats inside his soul, planting bloody images in his mind. "P-please...stop!" he says weakly, his mind growing fuzzy and heavy.

Muraki draws away, then rests a hand on the boy's cheek. He plays with the boy's ear lightly, saying, "I will only stop when you are in pieces." He slides a hand to the boy's eyes and touches him there, awakening the night of his rape and murder.

Hisoka's mouth opens wide, he sucks in a lungful of air, and screams.

On the nightstand, Muraki's glasses reflect the shimmering beauty of the suffering boy's curse.

...

Staring down at his chocolate doughnut, Tsuzuki wonders where Hisoka is, and why he hasn't contacted him.

_Did I do something that wrong? _He thinks, depressed.

Around him, Watari, Tatsumi, the Boss, and other Shinigami stares at him with quiet concern, having already tried to convince Tsuzuki that his partner is fine.

They sit or stand in the main office, awkwardly shuffling files or clicking around on the internet.

"What is strange, is that Hisoka hasn't tried to contact you." says Tatsumi softly. "Even in his darkest moods, he usually comes back by now."

"Do you know what you said that might have set him off?" asks Watari.

Tsuzuki shakes his head, his purple eyes brimming with tears, too upset to talk.

"You can hear that kid if he calls for you," says the Boss. He shrugs, spreading his hands onto the table. "So why hasnt he?"

"He only does if he's in trouble..." says Watari. "He wouldnt want someone to come if he believes he can do something on his own."

"This is all too familiar..." says Tatsumi, touching his glasses.

Tsuzuki looks up at the man with a bleak expression, waiting for the answer he already expected.

"Hisoka is in trouble." Tatsumi says, answering the silent question.

The Gushoshin twins gasp at once, looking at eachother in horror.

"Ooh, boy..." says Watari, shaking his head sadly.

Tsuzuki stands up quickly, then tuns away, not looking at anyone. At his sides, his fists are shaking. "We said we would handle him together..." growls the Shinigami tensly. "We would stick together...but..."

"Tsuzuki..." says Tatsumi.

"Muraki has him!" shouts Tsuzuki, tears springing from his eyes. "He's taken Hisoka away from me- he's taken away the chance of me redeeming myself." Closing his eyes, Tsuzuki whispers, "Hisoka has saved my life. He has given me a reason to live; I cannot ... I cannot lose him!"

"We'll come with you." Tatsumi says, stepping forward, placing a hand on the brown-haired Shinigami.

"Hai!" says the Gushoshin twins at once."We'll be your hunting dogs!" says one of them.

"The more the merrier-" the Boss says loudly.

"-No." interupts Tsuzuki. "I'm doing this alone." And so he starts running, out of the office, down the halls, and out the door; into the pure world of the Heavens, his running form is covered in the pink petals of the blooming sakura trees.

Watching with a mix of sympathy and admiration, the office-junkies wish him luck, their sad smiles vanishing as a black, cold dread begins to sinks in.

"What's the plan?" says Watari, a touch of panic in his voice, slaming himself down into a rolling chair, sliding to his laptop.

"We wait." says the Boss. He pressing a hand to his forhead. "It's all we can do."

"We must let Tsuzuki win back his honor." says Tatsumi calmly, agreeing.

The Gushoshin twins look down, feeling differently.

...

Bringing down the hilt on the knife hard onto Hisoka's knee cap, Muraki's face glows with the need to destory. He repeates the brutal up-and-down motion, beating into the knee until it shatters under his touch.

His blood flashing up into the air, Hisoka screams hoarsly, staring at the black, sunk-in hole where his knee cap once was; blood pours out from between shards of splintered bone.

"Why do you resist the urge to call for him?" asks Muraki coldly. "Do you not _want_ to be saved?"

"Thats- not- it!" snarls the boy, blood leaking from between his clinched teeth. "I wont have him fall into your trap! I wont-" he shudders feverishly. "I wont let you hurt him!"

"You have no say in what I will do to him." replies the doctor. "You don't even exist." With a soft laugh, Muraki breaks the boy's other knee cap, blood flying up and sticking to his pale face.

Hisoka squirms, shrieking, his voice raw as if parched- yet it is his own blood that burns in his throat.

Dropping the knife to the floor, Muraki leaves the boy panting, and comes back with a new vile. "This is my own recipie." he tells Hisoka gently, allowing the boy to steady his breathing so he can hear him. "It is the opposite of a pain-killer; while those work to slow down the process of feeling pain, this heightens it: It makes you feel more pain than you're actually in. You, my dear boy, are my lucky test-subject."

Fearing for his life, Hisoka draws in Muraki's emotions, absorbing his pain and suffering, adding it to him own- in hopes that he will pass out before Muraki gets started. and it starts to work; Hisoka's vision blurs, darkness swimming inside his brain. Sleepy...

Foreseeing his intentions, the doctor frowns wickedly and backhands the boy sharply, a splash of blood sprinkling onto the nightstand, dots on his glasses.

Hisoka cries out in shock, his heart rushing blood out of his wounds.

"You must stay awake." Muraki tells him. "So I can hear you scream until your dying breath." He takes a different vile(filled with deadly acid) and removes the cork of the vile and turns it over, allowing a single drop to touch the boy's woundless nose.

_Plot!_

In impact, the drop disolves the fiber of the nose, turning the skin black like burning paper, blood bursting out with flecks of tar-like substance.

All the while, Hisoka is screaming, thrashing and bucking against the chains, his nose melting, the goo leaking into his mouth. He vomits up tar and blood, most of it rushing back down his thorat, choking him. He swallows. A single drop of blood runs out of his eye.

The pain subsides, leaving as suddenly as it returned.

"Awake now?" asks Muraki sweetly. He shows Hisoka the vile of anti-medicine, and opens it slowly with a smile. He brings the vile to his own nose and smells it, visably intoxicated by its scent; a smile appears on his face, then vanishes.

He lowers the drug down to the boy, who twists his head away, sweating and bleeding excessively. Muraki grabs Hisoka's face tightly, squeasing his mouth so it opens. "Drink this." he tells the Shinigami, and pours the liquid in.

Hisoka tries to gag it up- to close his throat up and refuse- but his body wont respond right; if anything, he feels himself drinking ti greedily, as if his mouth has a mind of its own.

_Sh-shit! _he thinks in horror. The doctor's hand claws into his face, cutting it, drawing blood. Hisoka barely feels it. The darkness within Muraki fills Hisoka's spirit with depression: Is he really going to die again...? The doctor releases his face and turns away, the vile drained.

Muraki, looking very pleased, places the empty vile into his pocket, then leans back over the boy, a savage expression on his face, a glimmer in his mechanical eye.

Hisoka's green eyes tremble in their sockets- the green of a forest knowing it will soon be caught on fire- consumed until it is reduced to ash.

An angellic man with the heart of Satan- a troubled young man caught in between self-pity and love- their eyes bore into eachother breathlessly, waiting for the same thing- waiting for the posion to take effect.

...


	5. Chapter 5

12/1/10

...

As he arrives to the town market-place, with smiling people hauling large bags or baskets of things they'll never use walking around him, Tzusuki feels a deep, sudden panic: If the people wont gert out of his way fast enough, he'll never find Hisoka in time.

Groaning inwardly, he sprints along the sidewalk, searching for a kind of short-cut.

Where he is going, he doesnt know. He only runs with hope that his friend will call out to him and tell him his location.

_It's pointless to run with no destination. _he tells himself.

But...If the Gushino twins were with him... They could track him-

No.

He must do this alone. He must save Hisoka!

Turning a corner, he sees a way out; a large park- complete with running-path, a lake, slides, and water fountains. He runs towards it, finding himself sweaty, his body hot with straining, by the time he actually arrives.

The sound of laughter draws his attention, and he looks up to the sound, and sees a lone boy on a hill, flying a red kite.

As abruptly as tripping over a crack in a sidewalk, an idea strikes Tzusuki. He stops running, and says, "A messanger bird!"

Why hadn't he thought of it before?

He continues moving, walking quickly up the hill while digging out a piece of special Shinigami paper (ofuda) from his pocket, and he stands near the boy on the hill when he tosses the paper into the air.

Like magic, the paper begins to fold itself into an origami bird, its wings breaking forth into flight as it floats gracefully to the ground. It steadys itself in the air and flaps quietly in front of the Shinigami, its papery body turning solid and real; a single white feather breaks away and lands soundlessly into the grass.

"Go- Find Hisoka!" he tells the bird.

The little boy laughs again, his eyes bright; he runs back and forth on the hill, his fingers working the string higher and higher, moving with the kite as it dances in the sky.

Asato Tzusuki watches the kite for a moment, figuring he had to wait for the bird to return anyway. He places his hands on his hips, his tension melting as he believes the messanger bird will come back with good news.

"My daddy made it just for me." a small, childish voice states.

"Eh?" Tzusuki looks around sheepishly, then down at the boy. He smiles at the child and says, "He made a really nice kite! Maybe he can make me one sometime." he winks teasingly.

But the boy's smiling face becomes broken; his hands dropping limply to his sides, he looks down at his feet. His shoulders shaking, the boy starts to sob.

"A-are you okay...?" asks Tzusuki, taking a step towards him. The kite- its string gone slack- falls like a shot bird tot he ground- but the Shinigami reaches out and gently craddles it, admiring it before replacing his concern on the little boy.

"My daddy died in the hospital yesterday," says the boy, looking up. "He was planning to give me this kite for my birthday, which is today."

Tzusuki winces. "Are you by yourself?" he asks cautiously.

He sighs heavily, looking down the hill now, his expression that of an old man. He points to a bench near the lake, where a woman and a dog are playing fetch. "Jessica brought me and Barney here." he rolls his eyes over to Tzusuki and says, "Jessica's my new mom, but I dont like her. Sometimes I think she likes animals more than people... She only brought me here so I wouldn't be home all by myself."

"I'm sure your new mommy loves you," says Tzusuki gently.

"She doesnt." the boys says coldly, interupting. He walks over, gestures for the kite, and starts to wind the string back onto the wooden holder. "Jessica's only interested in my daddy's money... But," he looks down at the string in his hands, "what can you do?"

Tzusuki hands the kite back once the boy is finished winding up the string, then he looks up, watching for the messanger bird.

"What are you looking for?" asks the boy.

"Huh?" Tzusuki blinks. "Oh," he smiles brightly, saying, "Nothing." His face falls slowly as he watches the boy stroke the red kite, his young face worn-out from facing hardships in his childhood.

"Boy, how old are you?" asks the purple-eyed Shinigami.

The boy grins, turning his head up to reveal a missing front tooth, "Today I'm seven years old!"

Tzusuki's eyes soften, and he squats down in front of the boy, saying, "Well, you're very mature for your age."

"My name's Shinobu," he says, sticking out a hand.

Tzusuki shakes his hand. "Asato." he says. "It's nice to meet you." A soft flapping interupts his happy moment, and he stands up, giving the boy an apologetic smile. "I have to go now. Happy birthday, Shinobu."

"Oh..." the boy looks down, his voice dropping. "Okay...whatever..."

"Oi, don't be downhearted. Life will get better soon" Tzusuki says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

The little boy looks away, quiet, small hands tightening over his daddy's kite.

_Damn it... _Tzusuki thinks angrily. He gives the boy a short wave, then chases the bird as it starts to lead the way to Hisoka- to hell.

Left alone once more, the little boy raises his head in the direction of the stranger, his heart beating quickly.

Down the hill, his step-mother calls his name.

Shinobu's heart skips a beat, his kite falls from his suddenly limp hands. With dreading eyes, he looks at the woman he despises- gives her one long, haunting look- before turning and running the other way.

He doesn't look back; he doesn't stop running.

...


	6. Chapter 6

...

At first, there was nothing but a slow, boiling pressure in his stomach- like a balloon being blown up with fire instead of air. This pressure built inside of Hisoka until it literally burst- his stomach exploding inside of him- the force slicing other organs and ruining every system and nerve in the body. Blood flooded from the inside out, water-falling out of Hisoka's mouth and nose, his screams gurgling like a fish swimming in contact-lens solution.

His recent wounds tore themselves open wider than before- blood and skin flashed upwards like a sudden, horrific tree-growth.

But not really.

Though Hisoka Kurozaki is feeling that way, in reality, his body remains as it is; still wounded, but nothing worse is happening to him: The poison is in his veins; it takes over his brain cells and nerves, telling him he is feeling an imense pain beyond description, beyond words.

He lays still now, his mouth opens so wide as he crys out that the corners of his mouth tears slightly.

Above him, watching this display with wide, absorbing eyes, Muraki begins to laugh in pleasure: This anti-medicine works even more splendidly than he could imagin!

The sorcerer takes a screw-driver and pokes it gently into the black, sunk-in hole that once was Hisoka's nose.

A sword- a spiked mace- something digs into his nose and twists dangerously, his face catches fire, and his entire body in engulfed in a river of ice.

Hisoka's green eyes contact and twitch; his mouth gaps wider as his every breath (in and out) becomes a screasm of agony and suffering. Blood drips out of one of his ears.

"Stop!" he pants out at last, having been wordless for half an hour. "No more!"

Muraki, slightly shocked, turns away, a smile curling up onto his face. "Are you asking me to kill you, boy?" he asks sadistically, a deep, mockery entering his tone.

Hisoka cringes back, his head heavier than a twenty-pound bowling ball. Struggling to breathe, the Shinigami feels the poison fading- waiting to be re-activated by a single touch.

_Is it... wrong of me...to suffer? _Hisoka thinks to himself, his thoughts thick, his vision darkening. _Would...Would Tzusuki suffer worse when he finds out that I'd rather feel pain for him, than have him save me from it?_

Hisoka's eyes close, his body shaking so violently from pain and fear that vomit makes its way into his mouth; he vomits blood with a horrible burping noise, the crimson slime rolling all over his face.

The dim light from the window glows warmly over the Shinigami's naked body, turning his dirty, blood-stained body into a pretty, glossy pink.

_ Tzusuki..._Hisoka thinks quietly, his mind distant._ How badly would you hurt if you _do_ find me like this? _He jerks weakly at the chains, barely even making the chains rattle then he stops. Already giving up.

Hisoka's hearing fades in and out, as does his vision, and his will to live: _What is going on...? _he asks himself. Iniside, he feels a sweet, warm feeling into his soul- a feeling that he can only describe as "beautiful." He feels himself smile.

He tries to regian his thoughts; he's in pain, after all. Yet peace surrounds him. _Why am I...happy?_

...

Muraki, busying himself with loading a gun, chuckles quietly to himself, not worried at all by the fact that his doll is quiet.

_Tzusuki is coming_. He tells himself. _ I can sense his spirit..._Muraki looks over to the boy on the bloodied bed-sheets and points the gun to his face. "A certain little white bird flew by the window while you were fighting against my poison." He smiles slowly as the boy's expression opens into a flower of anguish for his friend.

"Shall he come to you like this? Or," he clicks back the trigger, making Hisoka flinch. "shall I carry your broken body in my arms like a bride, to the groom?" Without waiting for an answer, the doctor aims the gun at the chains and fires four quick shots, breaking the chains, but not the cuffs.

Dropping the gun, he scoops up the physically paralized boy into his arms, curling his bleeding, distorted body against his chest.

Hisoka's wide eyes gaze up sightlessly at Muraki; only images of his own death flickering in his eyes.

A finger touches his lips, waking him back to reality. "Calm down, my doll." Muraki says quietly. But there is irony in his words; he knows the boy's poison must be acting up again due to being moved around. His expression softening, he adds, almost sweetly, "Your heart is beating much too quickly; it would be best for both of us if it would stop."

With a groaning Shinigami twitching in his arms, the doctor takes the knife off of the table, then strides to the door, opens it, and takes the boy out into the main room, his white cloak becoming stained with gore.

Once he enters the main room, he lays the boy down on the floor. With a dark expression, he stands straddling the boy's unmoving body, and lowers the knife over Hisoka's left arm.

"Oh, the pain you will soon be feeling." Muraki says softly. His purple eyes glints. He hears the boy's heartbeat; the quick, ear-ringing racket of a heart running into it's flesh-made prison, fruitlessly trying to break free. "I almost envy you... But it is not my pain that will cause _him_ to come, but yours."

Hisoka moves his shoulders weakly- his legs twitch once- his body isnt working like it should. The blade of the knife just barely touches his arm, and it sends an electric signal to his brain, making him thrash.

"No...!" Hisoka cries out.

He sees himself in pieces; he sees Tzusuki falling to the floor at the sight of his dismembered body; he feels Tzusuki's deep self-hatred for not coming sooner-

"No!" Hisoka screams again._ I dont want to lose you... Tzusuki! _

Muraki raises the knife-

_I love you... _Hisoka closes his eyes, tears rolling down his face._ I love you, Tzusuki!_

-Muraki swings the knife down as hard as he can, just as Hisoka throws back his head and shrieks: "Tzusuki!"

...

It was as if a wall made of sound-proof glass had been shattered: One moment, he was running after a white bird, his ears listening only for the sound of its chirps- and now, he heard his name being called out by a familiar voice; a voice filled with so much pain, that it brought him to his knees.

For a few seconds, he just stared at the grass around his folded knees, his heart cold, his body suffocating: Hisoka is in pain.

He scrambles to his feet, shouting Hisoka's name, and starts running, knowing his exact position. After about five minutes, he stands in front of an old-fasion-built house, possibly built a decade ago.

_Muraki probably murdered the owners_, thinks the Shinigami darkly.

A smiling group of teenagers walks past him, giggling as soon as they pass. "He's a cutie," says one of them.

But Tzusuki is deaf to the world. His mind is set on confronting a tragic enemy, and saving his beloved friend.

He runs to the front door, shouting his partner's name once more, and jerks open the door.

...

He refuses to return home; he refuses to stop runnng. He wants to be carefree and positive like the stranger called Tzusuki.

His hands balling into fists, he sees, from far away, the young man running into a house.

_Maybe he'll let me live with him_, thinks Shinobu. _He seemed a lot nicer than Jessica... It's worth a shot. _He smiles sadly to himself. _Daddy..._he thinks. _Daddy would've liked him._

He skips over to the crosswalk and waits, watching the cars pass by. A horn sounds, and tires squeal: He does not hear the screaming that comes from across the street in the old house.

He smiles a childhood smile- a smile that promises he will never have to feel the pain of his step-mommy anymore, or the guilt of living selfishly while his daddy died with nothing in his Will. Shinobu will live happily ever after with the stranger as his new daddy.

The cross-walk light turns green, and the boy steps off into the road.

But the eight-teen-wheeler cannot stop fast enough.

...


	7. Chapter 7

12/2/10

...

The doll didn't last long under the knife.

Once the first arm was removed, the boy's screaming turned into such a beautiful song of disturbance, that it brought tears to the doctor's eyes.

The boy's tormented soul cried from the bottom of his core; he did not want to die: He did not want to part from the one he loved.

_How tragic_, thought Muraki with a sweet smile.

The anti-medicine worked too well; after the other arm was removed, the boy died.- not able to endure all the pain- his screaming ended with a final, rattling breath.

_Such a waste_. The sorcerer continued the procedure anyway, cutting away his legs, his penis, his ears, and his tongue. By the time he was finished, the main room was covered in a wide pool of blood. He carried the body parts into the guest room and placed them in a corner, then returned for the boy.

"Just as I thought," said Muraki quietly, bending over the dismembered doll. He picked it up and gazed down at it admiringly, his silver hir falling in his face. "You will surely be the end of Tsuzuki."

He brought the boy into the guestroom, and went to the farthest wall, where the lighting was brightest; three windows covered the left wall, allowing every mark on the boy's body to be known.

Pressing the doll's body against the wall, he concured up a massive golden dragon from the depths of hell. Without looking, he reached behind him and pulled out one of the dragon's fangs, ignoring the roars of dispair from the beast.

A moment later, he sent the dragon away and had the boy tacked up against the wall with the massive fang.

...

And now...?

Muraki Kazutaka stands in front of the limp corpse, smiling at the open-mouth gape of fear in the dead boy's eyes.

_ I wonder where you are, boy... _the sorcerer thinks curiously. _Once a Shinigami dies, what is left of you?_

"Nothing." Mursaki answers himself. He peers into the doll's green eyes with malice until he feels the one he love drawing near. He leaves and goes into the bedroom, where the blood-stained sheets have turned a blackish brown from the quarts of blood which was spilled there.

He removes his ruined cloak and puts back on his tie, using both hands to secure the knot under his chin. Feeling much more presintable, he strides to the mainroom and waits.

_ Tsuzuki. Your soul feels so determined right now. _The doctor smiles slightly. _Soon you will be numb. _

A sudden idea comes to mind and he goes back into the guestroom, his body trembling slightly in anticipation.

...

Upon seeing the blood, Tsuzuki felt his stomach drop; not in sickness, but in dread. What madness has Hisoka been faced with?

His hands ball tightly; his nail cut and bleed the skin. He shouts of Hisoka's name and runs forward towards the first room he sees-

But Muraki is walking towards him.

Tsuzuki stops, looking alarmed. "Muraki!" he says angrily. "Where is he?"

"I'm afraid I dont know who you're talking about." replies Muraki softly, his eyes squinting in self-amusement.

"Where's Hisoka!" asks Tsuzuki loudly, his voice echoing through the barren halls.

Wordless, the doctor walks towards him, not minding at all when his white shoes splash up the blood on the floor. Standing inches apart now, Muraki takes Tsuzuki's right hand and gently flips it over; he places something round and delicate in his hand, folding his fingers ever-so-slightly before taking step back.

Blinking, Tsuzuki looks down at his hand, opening it.

A small, green eye looks back.

...


End file.
